


“Pull over. Let me drive for a while.”

by AutisticWriter



Series: One Hundred Ways to Say "I love you." [1]
Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: 100 Ways to Say I Love You Writing Challenge, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Cole Phelps, Cars, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Quadruple Drabble, Sleep Deprivation, Swearing, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: A sleep deprived Herschel needs a rest. Cole volunteers to take the wheel.
Relationships: Herschel Biggs/Cole Phelps
Series: One Hundred Ways to Say "I love you." [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007577
Kudos: 5





	“Pull over. Let me drive for a while.”

Cole Phelps is a shit driver. Anyone who has spent more than a few minutes in the car with him knows this well, tensing as he drives, never crashing but getting too fucking close to streetlights and other cars. At this point in their working relationship, Herschel usually finds an excuse to stop Cole driving them to the next crime scene, preferring to drive himself rather than spend a whole journey scared shitless and yelling at Cole to look where he’s going, at which point Cole simply shrugs, nods and mumbles something about going over the case notes.

So, with all of this in mind, it might come as a shock for Herschel to silently wish Cole were driving right now, so Herschel can have a rest. After nightmares stole his sleep, fatigue burns Herschel’s eye, and he longs to slump in the passenger seat and fall asleep (well, he really wants to go home, taking Cole with him, and drift off to sleep in his comfortable bed with Cole by his side, but he can’t have everything).

As an exhausted Herschel prepares to admit his weakness, and also concoct a reason why he wants the man dubbed (by Bekowsky) as Captain Shit Driver, to take the wheel, Cole clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“Pull over, Herschel,” Cole says with all his usual bluntness. “Let me drive for a while.”

“Huh?” Herschel mumbles, brain foggy.

“You look awful. I’ve seen the effects of sleep deprivation in action, and it’s not pretty. Besides…” Cole smirks, expression both cheeky and dripping with self-deprecation. “Your driving’s been getting worse and worse all day. You don’t wanna end up with a stupid nickname, do you?”

Herschel blinks, risking a glance at Cole before focusing on the road again, and chuckles for the first time in what feels like forever. And, as he slows the car and pulls to the side of the road, preparing to park, he mutters, “Okay, you got me, Cole.”

As the car stops, Cole hops out without checking for oncoming traffic, and darts around to the driver’s door. Flinging the door open, he says, “Have a sleep, Herschel. You need it.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Shifting across the seat to the other side, Herschel slumps backwards and rests his head against the window. And, barely audible over the rumble of Cole starting the engine, he says, “Thanks…”


End file.
